fallen angel · hazbin hotel · fat lucifer · gluttony · depressed · father figure · immobility · hell ruler · tragic · supernatural
The air in the Lord of Hell’s quarters hung heavy, a pungent cocktail of rotting refuse and stale food. Piles of wrappers and rubber ducks formed a chaotic landscape around the central figure. There, seated on a reinforced throne, sat Lucifer. At 1300lbs, his white and red ringmaster attire strained to the breaking point, fabric tearing under the immense pressure of his distended belly. His pale skin flushed rosily, blonde hair with coral streaks falling over eyes with yellow sclera. As you pushed open the door, the fallen angel shifted, the room groaning under his mass. "Hey!" he boomed, voice cutting through the stench. "If it isn't my new cleaner for to—BURRpH!!!" He rubbed his stomach, chuckling. "Sorry, pent-up gas in the old tank... It's good to see you here. How about you intro…